


The Blue Anchor

by juicebboxx



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019), 1917 (Movie 2019) Actor RPF, True History of the Kelly Gang (2019)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juicebboxx/pseuds/juicebboxx
Summary: When a movie critic makes a bad review of his new movie ‘1917’, the actor George Mackay finds himself on a mission to make her change her mind.Celeste is a young movie critic on the way to make a career for herself. A mistake on the critic for an Oscar-nominated movie will change her life.
Relationships: George Mackay/Original female
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. boring war movie

Celeste barely had any sleep on the previous night and now she could feel her body and mind making her pay for that. It was almost five p.m. now and the girl had to push her glasses up her nose and scrunch her eyes to see the tiny letters on the computer screen. She procrastinated to finish the review of a documentary that was supposed to be up on the site this morning, but now she was in a rush to finish the work of an entire day in less than two hours.

Being a movie critic consisted of watching movies, reading scripts and writing about it later. That was pretty much her routine: looking at a screen to watch something and then looking at a screen to write about that something.

It was a cold and rainy afternoon in London – as always – her windows and blinds stayed closed for the day while the heater worked on his full capacity to make the small apartment warmer for her to work and for her cat to eat and sleep without bothering her by sitting on her lap until she stopped everything to play with him.

Still on her dark blue pajamas, hair up on a tight ponytail and a pair of yellow funny socks with cats’ faces printed on them, Celeste finally finished the review tapping on the keyboard with more force than necessary. After sending the final text of the review for her editor to read before posting on the site she got up from the chair and stretched her back while leaving a big yawn escape.

Celeste had two hours to get ready before going on film screening tonight. She was not supposed to go on this one, but the other critic that worked with her got sick and she got a last-minute task to herself. The girl didn’t know much about the movie, but that was not a problem: she would find out while watching it.

So after a long shower, layers of clothes to protect herself from the cold, an uber ride that took longer than expected because the driver lost himself three times saying that he knew better than the GPS and a heated argument with the security from the theater that was not finding her name on the list, Celeste finally sat down to watch the movie. The place was packed with familiar faces from journalists and other movie critics that she usually saw when going to those screenings. The movie, 1917, was already being treated as one of the favorites for the award season and the studio was spending lots of money and efforts on the campaign. This night was just for the industry professionals, no actors or the director would attend.

The girl grabbed the iPad from her bag, opened a bottle of water to take a sip and started to scroll through the movie information before it started. The cover had a soldier standing on a trench looking to the side and with furrowed eyebrows she looked at the cast and hummed with disapproval while shaking her head. Celeste had the slight feeling she would not like the movie.

“Sam Mendes and a war movie.” She whispered to herself. “Everything I dislike.”

Celeste was more of an indie movies type of professional. Or documentaries. Or sci-fi. Not war movies. These types of screenings were not on her scope, so she made a mental note to make her co-worker pay her a coffee.

The lights went out, she fixed her glasses and watched with attention as the movie started.

* * *

_ During the Passchendaele battle, two British soldiers are sent to deliver a message through the enemies’ territory and save 1,600 lives. _

Celeste typed and took a sip of her hot coffee.

_ The movie, made to look like it was filmed as one shot in its entirety, is aesthetically pleasing and makes the audience hold their breaths. Sam Mendes creates an atmosphere of pure tension and the scenes almost without cuts are followed by a sublime soundtrack that delivers surprises and makes us feel what the soldiers are feeling. _

The girl scrunched her nose at her own words.

_ 1917 deserves the fame and attention that it’s starting to get. Watching it in theaters is almost an event. _

She unlocked the iPad to look at the notes from last night. One line said, “the actors have absolutely no charisma” and the other “the only good actors have like 4 minutes of screen time”, but since she could not write that she had to find other words.

_ The support actors are the highlight of the movie. Well-known names make quick, but memorable appearances throughout the almost two-hour story. The two main actors are not very known by the big public, but although they deliver a solid performance, they are not outstanding and for sure do not follow the impeccable technique that Sam Mendes applied everywhere else. _

Celeste finished the review, gave an 8,5 out of 10 and sent by e-mail to the editor. On the copy of email, she added Jo, the co-worker that was supposed to watch and review the movie in the first place and added her a note.

**@Jo Hi! The movie sucked; it was just another boring war movie. The soundtrack gave spoilers of what was supposed to happen next. I think I fell asleep halfway through it and the main actor is plain boring. But above you will find a sugared review just like you would it. It’s an Oscar favorite and we want people to access our site. Hugs and kisses :D**

**P.S. you owe me a coffee.**

The girl turned off the computer, finished her now cold coffee and got up. The weather was better today and a shy sun was shining outside and gave London a better mood.

Celeste decided to go out for a run and maybe stop by to have lunch somewhere, since there was no actual food in her fridge. So, with her curly hair on a bun and grey sweatpants that were too big for her short stature she stepped outside the Hammersmith neighborhood and started to run with a view to the Thames River.

The girl had chosen that neighborhood on purpose. It was an artistic place, full of historical places and frequented by the coolest people in town. King Street had a special place in her heart and everyday she could take a walk next to Thames River. All she could ask for.

When Celeste felt the sweat starting to soak her hoodie, she stopped to run and began to walk. Not feeling hungry to have lunch yet and still far from her house she turned left on Chancellors street and walked in on a coffee place.

After making her order and sitting by the window her cell phone started to ring, making the loud music that was blasting through her earphones stop.

“Celeste.” She answered with a clear tone of disapproval on her voice. The girl hated phone calls and everyone knew that.

“People usually answer the phone saying hello, you know?”

“Hi, Jo.”

“You sound tired.”

“I was running.”

“Oh, okay. How was last night? I just read your review and published on the site myself.”

“It was quite boring, I must say. But I survived.” She started to run a finger through the cracks of the old wooden table. “Was the review good?”

“Just what we expected. Thanks for covering me.”

“No problem. Just don’t make me watch and review another Oscar contender movie, please.”

“I will not, C.” Jo cleared her throat and waited, but since Celeste didn’t say anything else, she said goodbye and finished the call.

Still with her phone in hand she decided to look how the review looked on the website and check if people were already reading it.

Her order arrived and while the waitress placed it on the table in front of her mouth fell open and she had to double take the screen.

“No, no, no.” With trembling fingers and shaking her head she dialed Jo’s number. “Shit, shit, shit”

“Hey, what-“

“Jo, you also posted the note I sent at the end of the e-mail” Celeste half shouted, and half whispered.

“I’ll fix it.”

She turned off the call abruptly and held her head on her hands. On the note she basically confessed hating the movie and lying to get the readers. That could ruin the site’s reputation and make her look like an amateur.

After taking a long breath to calm herself she started to laugh. The note was not up for a long time and she hoped that not many people had seen it or taken print screens of it.

Just a few minutes later she received an email from Jo and the editor confirming that the review was fixed and her personal note was removed from the end.

The cafe was located on the corner of the street and by the window she was seating nothing much could be seen apart from a few houses and a five floors building with huge glass windows. There were lots of people walking by, which proved that she was not the only one enjoying the tiny sun that appeared today.

Her cell phone screen lit up again announcing that she had a new email. Expecting to be Jo or the editor again Celeste narrowed her eyes when she saw an unknown contact name.

**From: Mackay, George.**

**Subject: boring war movie?**

**Date: November 27 2019 11:39**

**To: Nash, Celest.**

**Dear Miss Nash,**

**Nice to meet you, I think?**

**I just read your review about 1917 and would like to say thank you for taking your time to watch it, hate it and still write such good things.**

**It was a professional review, even though you forgot your own personal thoughts at the end.**

**If you have any tips on how I can improve my acting and make it more _impeccable_ to match with the boring war movie I will gladly accept them.**

**Sincerely,**

**Plain Boring Actor.**


	2. forgive me for what I said when I was anxious

He scratched the back of his neck while tapping both his feet on the ground. Hard. The music coming from his sister’s room was getting louder and louder and it made him even more frustrated. Looking at the clock he saw that it was almost eight p.m.

George was sitting on the big comfortable chair he bought for himself last month. He even purchased a new table and rearranged his room so he could sit in front of the window and have the River Thames as a view while he read scripts and memorized lines. Professional. That’s what he told his mom when the delivery guys arrived carrying the furniture’s upstairs: I need to be more professional and to do so I need to have my designed space.

So, with a stiff posture, a now forgotten cup of tea and a script in hand he sat looking at the sky. He needed silence and concentration, but it was impossible while living with his family. Don’t get him wrong, he loved everyone more than he loved himself, it’s just that now he was making it big and maybe living alone would not be a bad idea.

He checked the time again. It was already past eight, which meant that the first screening for 1917 had already begun. It was taking place here in London for the British critics and journalists. The opinions after tonight would dictate the movie success and the Oscar’s campaign.

George was beyond proud of this one. It was a hard and long movie to be done, it required tough training and a talent that he didn’t even know he had. He thought about quitting acting in the past, he was not getting roles and had started to doubt his own capacity. Then Sam Mendes and 1917 came into his life. And now he had two more movies to be done next year and there were already talks to projects in 2021. He felt he could do anything.

London was cold and rainy tonight. The drops of water hitting his window got thicker and the banging noises louder. Due to the heavier rain his sister turned her music up. That was the last strand for him. He would not be able to focus. So, the boy got up, closed the blinds, turned the lights off and went to bed, not even caring to change into his pajamas.

* * *

“I think critics will love it. Stop worrying.”

George placed the now empty cup of tea in front of him. His mom cleaned the breakfast table while he replied to some emails on his cellphone.

“Do you think I should read what they have to say about the movie?” The boy looked up and saw his mom approaching the table to collect his mug.

“Oh, sweety. If it will make you less anxious you should read it then,” She walked slowly to his side of the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But remember that your talent is not measured by their opinion.”

“Yeah, I know,” George was still wearing the clothes from yesterday, but now it had wrinkles everywhere and that made him look more tired than he was. He got up and retrieved the chair back to its place. “I’ll go shower and read some scripts.”

“Are you going to have lunch at home?” His mom asked before he left the kitchen.

George turned his head to take a look outside through the open kitchen windows and saw that the day was looking good, the sky was clear, and a tiny sun was starting to rise. Maybe going for a walk and a quiet coffee place to read would not be a bad idea. “I don’t think so, mum. Don’t worry about me.”

He went back to his room to collect a fresh pair of pants and a clean t-shirt. But before he left for the bathroom his cell phone vibrated on his hand. He left an alert on to read the news regarding 1917 and the new bright notification on his screen announced that there was a review freshly posted.

“Shower can wait,” he whispered to himself, sat on his chair and opened his laptop.

Before he started to read the boy sent the link to Dean-Charles Chapman, the other co-star from the movie, who was also anxious about the critics. They had developed an honest friendship while shooting the film and now they stayed in touch and texted each other almost every day. He couldn’t wait to start the press tour so they could hang out together again.

George clicked on the article review and started to read. The critic gave 8,5 out of 10. Ok, not bad. There were a few mentions about his acting not being as spectacular as the rest of the movie, but he could live with that.

He thought he had finished reading it when he saw that at the very end of the page there were a few highlighted lines, not formatted and not looking like the rest of the article. But he scrolled the page and read then anyway.

His body got tense.

“ **the main actor is plain boring”**

George read it over and over again. Suddenly the feeling of being able to do anything went away. He locked his jaw and grinded his teeth.

“Maybe the movie is not a 10 out of 10 because of my acting,” he said out loud. He then looked around and laughed a little. He sounded crazy talking to himself like this.

Before he could do anything, the website page refreshed alone, he hadn't touched it for the past minute and now the note at the end was gone. Only the article with the review and critics opinion left.

He was angry, nervous and anxious all at the same time. He could almost hear his heartbeats and without much thinking he looked at the critics’ name and googled her contact.

_ Celeste Nash. _

He said it loud three times while typing a passive-aggressive e-mail. He was counting on this movie to make it big. He needed it to be good.

George pressed send and closed his laptop. He got up and finally went to take his much needed shower.

* * *

He already regretted it.

Every single muscle on his body was suddenly sore. George went back to his bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist ready to recall the email or send an apology. He was a lovely guy, or at least everyone said that he was, he was out of his mind for sending that.

He changed into the clothes that were picked up earlier and were left on his bed and went back to his desk to write another email.

When he opened the laptop there was already an unread email waiting for him. He took a deep breath and held the bridge of his nose.

**From: Nash, Celeste.**

**Subject: RE: boring war movie?**

**Date: November 27 2019 11:50**

**To: Mackay, George.**

**Dear Mister Mackey,**

**I’m sorry that my personal thoughts were also posted on the website. We are a very professional site and I can guarantee to you that there were almost no views to that since we recognized the mistake and fixed it almost instantly.**

**I’ll not discuss any other matters through my own email. If you have any other complaints you can direct them to the site contact email address and our team will handle them.**

**I apologize one more time for the error.**

**Sincerely,**

**Celeste N.**

“She even wrote my name wrong,” George read the email three times. “It’s Mackay for Christ’s sake.” He muttered under his breath. 

He was not sure if she was being extremely professional or just ironic with him.

**From: Mackay, George.**

**Subject: It’s Mackay with an A**

**Date: November 27 2019 11:55**

**To: Nash, Celest.**

**Dear Miss Nash,**

**Thanks for fixing it. Sorry if my last email sounded too harsh.**

**But next time you should pay more attention when posting and when writing my name. It’s Mackay with an A.**

**Sincerely,**

**George.**

**P.S. I think you should also pay more attention when watching a movie.**

He has no idea why he kept being so mean to this woman. But now he was sure she would not answer him anymore. So, with that, George looked for a jacket, grabbed his cellphone, wallet and the script from the table and left the house to find some peace and quiet to read.


	3. the world keeps turning

Celeste was reading an email about their recommendations for the Baftas award when she saw the notification with George’s name. Another email.

The girl was taking the last sip of her now cold coffee and chuckling slightly when she noticed how passive-aggressive the actor was on the email. She knew how to write his name right, it was written there in the very email and she had spent the previous night researching and writing about him. But she didn’t want to write it right. 

After she finished typing the email she was giving one last read to see if there were any errors and smirked at herself when this idea popped up. Celeste intentionally misspelled his name and clicked on send. Now it was oh so funny to see him venting about it.

This was something she had learned with an old boss. Normally, rising stars and newby actors like George felt like they were the most hot and important thing in the scene, the A-list for hollywood. So she would pretend to forget names, misspell names or even act like she didn’t know who they were. It was always a reality check for them and it worked very well to put those stock up people in their places.

The London weather was still good and Celeste wanted to enjoy the day as much as she could. With that she got up, grabbed her things and walked out of the coffee place. As she stood on the sidewalk looking at the sky, the girl made a mental list of things to do today: she would walk to the post office now, stop by the supermarket and grab some groceries, go home, do some laundry and change her bed sheets. 

Sounded like a plan to her.

She knew she had to enjoy those last moments of calmness in the work before the Award Season fully began. Even though she was in London and was more responsible for the documentaries and foreign movies critics and recommendations, she would end up helping in the other categories or co-workers when needed - just like she did with 1917 on the previous night. She joked with Jo that this was not in her work scope, but the team was still small and they would need her help in this period.

As Celeste reverted her gaze from the sky back to the sidewalk she couldn’t see anything as her vision was basically black from the long period looking at the sunlight. The girl blinked fast several times and turned around to start walking. 

After taking two steps to the right she felt that she was about to crash into something, but in the last minute before the contact the person moved a little to the right in order to avoid colliding.

The girl gasped and laughed to herself. “Sorry, I’m so stupid.” 

But as she looked back the person had already entered the cafeteria and hadn’t even heard her apology.

“Ugh, british people and their manners.” 

* * *

“Do you think we should start looking at the calendar after the awards? ‘Cause I’ll be honest with you, Jo. I have the feeling we are way too focused in the next few months and haven’t properly planned the next steps.”

Celeste took the phone from one ear and placed it in another while looking at the pasta options on the supermarket shelf. 

“I have a draft for that and I’ll send it to you by the end of the day.” Jo yawned at the other side of the phone call. Celeste could sense how tired she was. “But I’ll let you focus more on Britain and foreign movies and documentaries.”

“Cool. My favorites.” She grabbed five different packs of instant noodles and placed them inside of her shopping cart before pushing it to the next aisle. 

“Still hate Hollywood, huh?” 

“It’s not hate… I just don’t want to have _that_ life,” Celeste was now looking at hundreds of different types of shampoo bottles and trying to remember if the ones she had at home would be enough for the next few weeks. 

“But we will plan and see how it goes. The site will grow next year, I can feel it,” Jo was optimistic that the site they started barely three years ago would make its break through this year. The team was still small and this was the second time they would be part of the Awards Season by going to the film screenings. 

“Yeah, I can feel that too.” 

“No, seriously. We will start interviewing the big starts too.”

Celeste grunted loud and Jo laughed. 

“Your 1917 review is the most viewed in the site right now. And it has been there for only a few hours.”

“Yeah, popular movies and all.” Celeste was walking to the checkout and debating whether she should tell Jo about the emails with the angry actor, but she didn’t want her colleague to worry more than she already did. Jo worried too much about the most random things, this incident would cause her a heart attack. 

So they finished their call, Celeste paid for her groceries and called an Uber home, since she bought more things than necessary and would not be able to walk and carry everything. 

* * *

Radiohead played softly in the background as she petted her cat with one hand and ate the noodles with the other. 

Her gaze was fixed in the computer screen while her brain tried to process the next words to add into the text. Celeste loved writing. Writing was her first passion and she loved it with every single fiber in her being. Words did everything to her and took her where she is now. 

But sometimes - just sometimes - they escaped from her and she found herself stuck staring into a blank page without knowing where to go next.

After the third long and loud deep breath she decided that the words would simply not come now. Her week was long. Her day was long. What started as a plan to change the bed sheets finished out to be a whole apartment cleaning. 

The unfinished text was saved and closed. She decided to take a look into the calendar draft that Jo sent her a bit earlier. 

The site did not get the funds and approvals to go to the Toronto Film Festival this year. It was their second try and second negative response. But the films that premiered there were starting to get their release dates and they would not miss the opportunity to watch and write about them before the official releases in the United Kingdom. 

There was a tab with her name in the document with all the films and documentaries she would have to cover. Celeste took only a quick look and saw how busy the month of February would be for her. 

She smiled at the good list of films listed at the ‘foreign’ category. They were her favorites. The list had the names of the countries, films, the director, cast and a brief summary of the plot. 

The girl started to laugh in silence. But what started as a little chuckle finished as a big grin spread across her face.

Her eyes ran over the name three times before she leaned at the table and held her head in her hands. The cat got annoyed at the movements she was making and jumped from her lap to go lay on the sofa. 

She looked back to read the name of the film on top of the list. 

**AUSTRALIA: True History of the Kelly Gang (film) | Directed by: Justin Kurzel**

United Kingdom release: 28 February 2020

Cast: _George MacKay_ ; Essie Davis; Nicholas Hoult; Orlando Schwerdt.

“This is a joke,” She finally said out loud. The cat turned his head to look at her, but shortly noticed that she was not talking to him and returned to his peaceful sleep on the sofa. 

Celeste got up to take the dishes to the kitchen. She drank a glass of water in one big sip and walked back to her desk.

The girl had an idea and with a big smirk she opened her email and started to type as fast as she could. She didn’t even take a second look at what she wrote to check and see if there were any typos. After clicking send, Celeste decided that it was time to go to bed.

**From: Nash, Celeste.**

**Subject: An apology and a request**

**Date: November 27 2019 23:36**

**To: Mackay, George**

**Dear Mister Mackay with an A,**

**You are right. I should really pay more attention to things. My bad :)**

**I would like to make it up to you in any way I can. I was thinking of an interview for our site maybe? This way I can highlight your career until the release of ‘True History of the Kelly Gang’ in late February.**

**It will be a short interview, just a few questions sent by email that won’t take more than half an hour of your day.**

**This way our readers will keep you in their radar for the upcoming movies.**

**Sincerely,**

**Celeste Nash.**


	4. a terrible adult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this! Work was kinda crazy. I will now update on a weekly basis <3 thanks for reading I appreciate it a lot.

George’s plans changed halfway into his walk the next morning. He was again going straight for his favorite coffee place, with the script in his hand, but decided to walk a few minutes more to look at houses around that neighbourhood. He had decided that it was definitely time to move from his parent’s house and live alone. This thought did not leave him for one second.

But he had no idea how to do that. Could he do that alone? Did he have to talk to a realtor? 

“My god. I’m the worst adult person ever.” He mumbled after stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. There was a cute little white house across the street. It was for sale. The windows were black, one of the glasses broke and the gate was dark blue. 

There was no one around. No cars passing. No pedestrians walking by. Just a dog a few meters ahead, looking in his direction probably trying to understand why that tall person was looking suspiciously at a house. 

George turned around and started to walk back to his original route to go grab the much-needed cup of coffee. He would definitely ask his agent for some guidance. He was a better adult than him. For sure.

***

A cup of hot steaming tea and a cup of now cold coffee were perfectly aligned on the dark wooden table. Keys and cell phones were also there next to them, but they were thrown and forgotten. 

George didn’t even notice the time passing. His eyes were glued on the pages in front of him, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He was completely focused on reading and highlighting that new script.

He loved that coffee place because it offered him the peace and quiet he much urged. It was small, with not many tables, in the mornings’ people would grab their cups and leave so it was never crowded. Also, he loved reading with the noise of coffee being made in the background. 

He took his eyes away from the script when the table vibrated along with his cell phone. George used this opportunity to take a break. He fixed his posture and read the notifications from last night and this morning. He usually slept away from his phone and only checked it after reading or working out in the morning.

As he went through his emails, the actor raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the tea with a tiny smile on his face as soon as he read the name, Celeste Nash. His smile got bigger after he saw that she wanted an interview with him to apologize. 

Since he doesn’t know much about the site she worked for and any interviews had to be scheduled first with his agent, George forwarded her email — being careful to delete all the previous ones where they were being assholes to each other — asking if he could do it. He wanted to. He really wanted to.

**From: Mackay, George.**

**Subject: How’s that an apology?**

**Date: November 28, 2019 9:36**

**To: Nash, Celeste**

**Dear Miss Nash,**

**How’s that an apology? From what I see I’ll only make your site more famous :)**

**Just kidding, okay? I would love to do it. But I can’t decide on these things myself, so I’m already in talks with my agent. He’ll give you an answer asap.**

**Sincerely,**

**George Mackay.**

Exchanging emails with her was already becoming a daily habit for him. He hoped they could keep a lighter tone to each other because he regretted those first emails with every single fiber of his body. George would find a way to apologize. 

Then, he remembered that he would need his agent help to find a place for himself and quickly typed another email explaining the situation and asking for some guidance. 

Nate, George’s agent, was with him since 2008 when the actor was only 16. They always had a great work dynamic and friendship. Nate was almost family at this point. His career was now going places, and he only had Nate to thank for. 

Not even 10 minutes later he received two emails reply from him. His answer about the interview was “I’ll ask her some questions first” and about the house hunting was a phone number with the word realtor next to it. 

George saved the realtor’s number to call him later today as soon as he had some time. The actor was in a rush, and although he loved living with his family, he was a 26-year-old man, it was time to move. 

He went back to his script reading. The cup of tea was also cold now, but he didn’t mind. 

***

His parents were staring at him in awe with their hands holding their forks midair. George tried to be as nice as possible when telling them that he was planning on living alone. But that wasn’t enough. The dinner plates were forgotten on the table while they both looked at him like he had just confessed a murder to them.

“But why? Have we done something?” His mom was the first to ask.

“No, mum. No. My god, no.” He replied in a rush. “But I’ll start traveling more now and will have to arrive and leave the house in weird hours. It’ll be a complicated routine for all of us.”

His parents exchanged glances. “There’s nothing we can do, huh?” His dad asked while putting his fork down with more force than necessary. The loud noise from it hitting the ceramic plates reverberated in the entire house.

“The Mackay’s will always be the Mackay’s even if we are living a few blocks away from each other.” George also put his fork down. 

The three of them shared a loud breath. His sister was out with her boyfriend and friends today so the table that was usually set for four people was only set for three, and the dinner that was always filled with conversation and laughter about their days was just this uncomfortable silence right now.

“I’m starting to look for places. I called a realtor today, told him what I was looking for and next week we will visit them all.” He pushed his plate forward indicating that he was done eating. “It may take days or it may take months. Nothing to worry about now.”

“And depending on the place you’ll have to renovate some things here and there.” His dad replied. “You can count on us if you need any help.”

“Thanks, dad. I appreciate it.”

George knew this was not going to be easy for his parents. They had a close relationship, but it was more than expected for him to move any time soon now. He just felt sorry for his little sister, she would have a lot of trouble moving in the future.

His parents were already talking about something else when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He took it out and unlocked it still paying attention to the conversation, but he completely lost focus when he saw the message from his agent.

**Interview scheduled with that movie critic. I’ll email you the details. It will be in person so you guys need to figure out a location. Talk later x**


	5. meet me there

“What do you mean in person? I thought it would be a few questions by email?” George was climbing two steps at a time and as soon Nate picked the phone he blurted out the question.

“Hi there, mate!” Nate was always in a good mood. It didn’t matter the situation or place, George would always stay calm and with good humor because Nate would be too.

“Hello.” George couldn’t hide the grumpiness from his voice. 

“The site is good. She is good. Great opportunity to throw your name out there, mate.” Nate was busy opening some packages that had just arrived from the mail, so the only thing George could hear apart from his agent’s voice was the sound of paper being torn. 

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.” He was sitting on his bed and looking out the window. It was a cold night, his back hurt from all the walking he had done during the day, and going to bed was his most desired wish right now. 

“I emailed you her phone number, so just give her a quick call to schedule a place.”

“Okay.” It was the only word he could force his brain to process and mouth to speak.

“George?” The concern could be heard from Nate’s voice.

“Huh?” 

“Do this today, alright? Today.”

With that, Nate turned off their call without even saying goodbyes. That’s what years of working together and being friends did to them.

George threw the phone back on the bed, got up, and went to take a shower. He first turned the water on and took a few steps back to wait for it to heat while he took off his clothes. George had spent the last two months working out hard to prepare for his next role, he would have to be back in training next week and was not looking forward to it. He remembered about the training as he took his shirt off, which was now a size bigger than it used to be, and it still felt tight around his biceps and back. The actor had never gained so many muscles in this entire life and his own body still felt weird for him.

1917 was challenging, Sam Mendes made him train and prepare for the role for about 6 months, but Ned Kelly was by far the most demanding role of his life. Deep down, George knew that he would lock himself into this character and never get out. 

He took a step to the right and looked at his torso in the mirror. He was not exactly  _ built, _ but his muscles were  _ cut.  _ Muscles that two months ago could not be seen. It was his very first transforming his physical appearance for a role, and he was enjoying seeing his own body become unrecognizable even for himself. And besides, George has always been a skinny lad, so anything would be able to make him gain muscles and weight.

The mirror getting foggy was a warning that the water already hot, so he took his underwear and got under the shower. 

As George washed his hair he with all the care in the world he started to think about the interview. He was afraid of how this would possibly go since it was clear that the critic didn’t like him and his work, and there were big chances of her being rude or hostile to him. But at the same time, she offered to interview him, right? But it was an offer to do it by email and not in person.

He opened his eyes. This was the least relaxing shower ever. He finished washing his hair, turned the water off, and reached out to grab the towel that was hanging on the side. Before leaving the bathroom he looked at his reflection one more time, a weird thing that he kept doing since he never cared much about his appearance or looks. 

Back into his room he unlocked his phone and saw that Nate had sent the critics phone number. Celeste. He tested her name at the tip of his tongue a few times. 

“There’s no way in hell I’ll call this woman.” He sat on the bed, the wet towel still wrapping his waist, and quickly typed a message. George clicked send without reading twice what he had written for her. He placed the phone on his table by the window, closed the blinds to ensure that the sunlight wouldn’t wake him up the next morning, the towel that was previously on his waist was now hanging at the chair.

He walked naked around the room to lock the door, turn off the lights and get a blanket. As he was arranging his pillows and blanket, standing next to his bed, he saw that his phone had received a message. His entire body froze and his heart skipped a beat. 

George took a deep breath and decided that he would read it tomorrow. The actor got under his fluffy blankets and drifted off almost instantaneously. 

***

Celeste was dipping her french fries on the ketchup while looking at the TV in front of her. It was a weird and tiring day, too many things were happening at the same time. She felt exhausted, the site was growing, they didn’t have a big staff, the award’s season was just around the corner and to make everything worst, everyone loved her idea of the interview with George Mackay — including his own agent — and now she would have to leave her house and meet him in person.

She sighed. The actor probably hated her. A lot. A rising star with a hurt ego was the worst combination ever, so she could only imagine how rude he would be during the interview. 

His agent said he would call her later today to schedule a place, and she hasn’t been able to focus on anything else since then. Celeste was not shy, she was great interviewing people, but after their past e-mail exchange she was sure that the interview would be a disaster and the idea to do it came from her. 

Since Nate’s last email she had already washed the dishes, ordered a burger, taken a shower, started to watch a movie, ate the burger and not even one single signal from the actor to let her know when they would meet.

She finished the remaining fries, drank the rest of her cold tea in one big gulp and got up to leave the plate at the sink. Celeste saw her reflection on the microwave door and laughed at herself. She felt pathetic. 

The movie critic turned off the lights from the kitchen and the living room, grabbed her cell phone from the couch and decided to call it a night. But she saw a text message from an unknown number.

**The Blue Anchor pub in Hammersmith. This Saturday at 9 a.m. Meet me there.**

Plain and simple. Not even a hello. Celeste sat abruptly back on the couch and texted a simple reply. She knew that the interview was going to be horrible. 

**Okay. I’ll meet you there.**


End file.
